Dear Roger:The Names Have Changed To Protect The Guilty

Well Rog, I would apologize for it being a long time since I have written, but I know you would understand my reason, I am in the midst of a jag and its been damn hard to walk away from it. I finally started writing and it has just been pouring out of me. I found a way of distancing myself from the pain by changing the characters into men, and I am actually writing the 1st person view from his perspective, (hows that for fucked up?)I dont know if it will help me to understand his motivations any better, but I do know it keeps it all just far enough away that I dont fall apart writing it. I uploaded and published a teaser for it and the reviews and interest have been fantastic. In just 24 hours I have had over 200 hits and the reviews have been very, very positive which I find odd considering the teaser I threw up felt truncated and rushed to me. I have over 20k words done in the past 24 hours and I would have more done, but my eyes keep getting tired and I have to take a break. I was a damn song that finally got me to do it. I have been walking around with all that hurt and pain in me for so long, no way to get rid of all the shame and feeling of rejection and then I was just listening to my music at work, and I was sharing it with this chick who had never heard of my favorite band the 100 Monkeys. I played her my favorite song,"LDF" . I told her the story behind it and she said,"Wow, how brave of him to put that out kind of hurt out there." and I realized she was right, that kid is brave enough to show the entire world his and get rid of it, and it seems to be working for him, so dammit its time for me to show mine. I sat down and thought about the best way of doing things and it just started rolling. Chance realized something was up when he saw me typing constantly instead of just reading, and he asked me what was going on. I told him I was finally getting rid of some things and talking about it and he told me some things that surprised me.

"Aunt Trina hates him worse than any of the other men that you have ever dated,worse than Ed,worse than my father, she fucking HATES him, so does memaw and papa, I hate him too." I was shocked to hear that, My family never met him, my sister maybe met him once and my son was too young to remember him, but he got up and started pacing back and forth in that tense and trying not to cry way he has when hes really worked up, " Aunt Trina says he killed the best part of you, that when he got done playing with you, you didnt believe in yourself anymore. You stopped smiling and that you used to have this light in your eyes that told people you were going to set the world on fire,she says he is the one who put it out." She told me you disappeared for a while after you left Yuma and they thought you had killed yourself or just died of sadness, and when you finally resurfaced with Ed, they figured you had found someone to do the favor for you. He has been this cancer in you for most of my life, giving you just enough to give you hope, but never enough to make you healthy and happy. He killed the best part of you and he is why your eyes quit smiling. I dont blame Ed for the things he did so much, he was just dealing with a situation that was so fucked up that it would make any man crazy, I blame that son of a bitch for not making a clean break so you never wanted to see him again and could get on with your life."

When he first realized what I was writing, my son was upset, but then he saw how I was writing it, and what it was doing for me,and he has become supportive, even asking if he can read it,(NO, its very much a mature story) , but what gets me is how vividly the memories come flowing back and how easily I am able to twist them just enough to make it not hurt when I throw them out into the world. I threw up a couple of times after I published the first chapter. I am just not one for sharing my work, so its kinda a weird feeling putting it out where its meant to be seen and read and commented on and watching the comments and reviews come in. Its also very, very addicting, kinda like the few times I performed my poetry and did my motivational speaking on a large public sale and folks liked it, the feeling of standing up there on stage with people clapping and laughing when they were supposed to laugh was a powerful and wonderfully seductive thing, but that was when I was still able to do those things.

I am planning on posting a chapter a week, and writing it all out well in advance so that I dont leave my readers hanging, but the story really has no end and I am not sure how I am going to address that one.

Thanksgiving was an interesting affair. We ended up eating with my friends family and some of her friends in a kind of odd ,"Orphans" type of meal. I made mashed potatoes and rolls and deviled eggs, but due to my wisdom teeth blowing up on me I was doped up on Vicodin and beer trying to keep the pain to a dull roar, and I dont know if you remember, but Vicodin gives me the giggles and beer makes me talkative, add in an old man with a jar of pickles, my smart assed son, a pervy little rock star and his weird song called,"Jonesing for Pickels" and you have me getting a fit of the giggles so bad that I snorted potatoes through my nose, and fell out of my damn chair. They had to put that plate of pickles in front of me,Chance just had to raise his eyebrows and grin, and that was all she wrote. I ended up getting sent home early after I could not get it under control, because when that old man said,"Son, if you want a pickle I will give you one." well...you know, spitting soda across a table is just kinda frowned upon.

Christmas is going to be spent up here. We are starting are own little traditions as well as maintaining some of our old ones and the kids seem happy so far. We got our traditional Charlie Brown tree, and its a sorry looking little thing, but daughter had a good time decorating it. Our topper is new to us, and we decided in honor of our motivation for moving to Portland and for bringing the happy to us in our new lives, we have a monkey as our angel. Daughter calls it,"Kink Kong" and that never fails to crack me the hell up. Im ordering her presents today, shes getting some of her favorite bands stuff and the DVD of their tour. Its soo funny, I can remember when she loved blocks and baby dolls, but now she wants posters of her favorite little actor/singer and to wear his t-shirts and stuff, its a bit disturbing but I guess it could be worse.

My guitar will be here today!!!! yeah! If it survives shipping that is, I will be playing again tonight and picking out chords for one of the songs I wrote called,"Over-privileged,Dirty, White Boy Blues."